Bloody Hell || James & Amelia || September 1st, 1979
The blackness receded a little and Amelia realized she wasn’t dead. Huh. The Death Eater had gone, she noticed, blinking furiously, good arm pushing at the floor to try to reposition herself a bit and succeeding only very minisculely. She was alone. The train rocked and the blackness threatened at the edge of her vision and Amelia’s hitched breathing picked up. Focus. There was blood coming out of her nose. Time had been fractured when the Death Eater kicked her in the face (which had been fucking unnecessary), she wasn’t sure how long she’d been unconscious. She hurt. She didn’t want to move ever again.
Her eyes had been closed too long. Damn it. Amelia blinked them open again, brow furrowing. She hadn’t noticed closing them in the first place. Her fingers uncurled from around her wand (she’d been holding onto it in what she’d thought, morbidly and briefly, would soon be a death grip) and her hand fluttered towards her broken leg. But looking at it made her feel nauseous, and Amelia closed her eyes again. Damn it. Her head fell back, resting against the wall as she breathed, faintly aware that stupid traitorous tears were still dripping down her cheeks.
Breathing was hard. Every expansion of her lungs seemed to cause her entire body to flare in pain. Letting the blackness edging into her vision get the best of her again was beginning to look appealing.
@folly-of-arrogance